Cracking the Code
by Oliva Carter
Summary: Roy and Riza's eye signals were such a crucial part of their relationship. Ever wonder how they came to be? Here's your answer  Watch as they grow close, from children to adults. Rated M for possible lemon in later chapters. Royai. I do not own FMA.
1. Chapter 1

**Just a disclaimer: I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist or any of its characters – all rights go to Hiromu Arakawa, Viz, and Funimation. That being said, I'm not sure how often I'll be able to update, but I really hope to have this whole storyline completed within a year~ It's going to be all about how Roy and Riza's non-verbal cues came to be, and how they became closer as a result~ Please review! Every little bit helps~ Enjoy~**

Chilled air, dim and uninviting. Dark walls glowed faintly in the flickering light of a single oil lamp. A tattered wooden desk sat against the wall beside the doorway. Alchemic texts littered the desktop, the floor, and the single bed, which had never been slept in. The only window in the room had been boarded up, leaving the room in a state of unproductive tension. A young man of 12 or 13 years, with jet-black hair and eyes the color of coal, bent over the desk, furiously scrawling notes on worn old sheets of paper. Those eyes wearily, yet forcefully scanned the pages, and the creases in his forehead revealed that no matter how hard he thought, he could no wrap his head around the material.

It was his first night at Master Hawkeye's rural home. He had been so excited and so confident in his ability to obtain the alchemic knowledge needed to make an impression upon the military, become a State Alchemist, and begin to do great things for the people in the country of Amestris. After meeting Master Hawkeye, however, his demeanor had changed dramatically. The man was terrifying. He was looking for a protégé, a genius, a pupil with incredible potential. One that could not only handle, but do justice to, the complexities and intricacies of his groundbreaking alchemic discoveries. The boy had heard that he had only had one pupil before, and that, despite the intelligence of the pupil, he had given up on him within one month because he had deemed them incompetent. He couldn't risk losing this opportunity.

So here he was, Roy Mustang, only 13 years old, exhausting himself over advanced alchemic texts on his very first night living at Master Hawkeye's residence.

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"Father," came a young, timid voice. A petite girl of 9 or 10 years approached the menacing man who towered over her. Her bright, blond hair was cut short, to the length of a boy's, the only feminine touch in the form of bangs that fell, in the style of a hawk's wing, along the right side of her face. She was wearing a small black skirt that rested at her knees, a soft, white shirt, and a faded pink apron that was a little too big, and looked as though it had been cut to the right length with a pair of dull scissors. "When can I meet your new apprentice?"

His eyes narrowed with disdain and he grabbed her by the arm, pulling her outside into the weed-infested yard. She closed her eyes and mentally prepared herself for what was to come. She was grateful that the boy was in the house – that meant her father had to take her outside, where he couldn't be so harsh.

"You are NOT, under ANY circumstance, to interact with that boy. This research is incredibly important and he cannot be disturbed," his voice dripped with malice, his demeanor making it incredibly apparent that he was appalled that she would interfere with his work.

"But Father-…" she began again quietly, though her eyes were aglow with an intensely burning fire. She looked ready to fight, but she held herself back.

"Don't you dare disobey me! Know your place. Now finish preparing my dinner and bring it to the study once you're through," he spat, turning his back on her and walking into the house.

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Roy looked up from his texts as the earthy scent of bread wafted into the room. Soon the scents of leeks, potatoes, and a variety of spices, and the flowery smell of lavender, with a hint of vanilla washed over him. Roy suppressed his hunger, waiting for Master Hawkeye to tell him that he was allowed to eat. A half an hour passed with no word. Not that it mattered; Roy was lost, once again, in the alchemic texts, struggling to process what he was reading. Suddenly, from the corner of his eye, a flash of blond hair passed his doorway. It came at around his eye level, too small to have been Master Hawkeye. He rose from his seat and peered around the doorways, but there was no one to be found. He heard the door to Master Hawkeye's room open and he rushed back to his seat, burying himself in his studies.

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The young girl served herself a small cup of the potato leek soup she had made, and a small portion of the bread she had baked. Taking a bite, she was pleased with her work. They were living off of the inheritance that was left for her when her mother passed, and she was not sure how long that money needed to last. Taking what she knew about the filling attributes of starches, she came to incorporate potatoes, rice, bread, and pasta into her cooking to make her father and herself feel more satisfied than they probably were.

If her father would go out and work, they would be able to eat the things her mother used to prepare. She suspected that was one of the reasons her father refused to do so. Now that the job fell to her, her father locked himself away and researched his alchemy. She sighed as she rose from her seat and began to wash her dishes. She had high hopes that he father's new apprentice would help bring him out of his harsh, reclusive nature.

She peered around the corner of the small kitchen and glanced into the bedroom that had become the apprentice's new study and living quarters. Her heart rushed a little bit as she saw him. He looked to be only a few years older than she was, and he was rather nice looking. He could be her first friend. She smiled gently as she watched him study, admiring his dedication to the reading.

Noticing the room was beginning to dim, she went into a kitchen cabinet and retrieved a can of oil for the lamp, and made her way down the hall and into the bedroom. Roy was so engrossed in his reading that he didn't even notice her presence. She quietly refilled the lamp and left the room, not wishing to disturb him. She smiled as the light brightened and his eyes strained less to read the pages in front of him.

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A minute too late, Roy noticed that the small, blond-haired person had come into the room, filled his lamp, and left. He marked the page he had been reading and rose from his seat and went to find this person. He reached the doorway of his bedroom when Master Hawkeye approached him. Roy stepped back.

"You will not leave this room until you understand the texts I have given you. I do not want to see you making yourself this way unless you are coming to explain to me that you understand them. Are we clear?"

Roy shrank back into himself, his eyes downcast and frightened. He could not read this man. He was supposed to be this brilliant alchemist, and yet he could not see how this man knew anything about alchemy. All he had done was thrust the texts upon him and demand that he understand the complexities of it. Yet, the authoritative air he presented himself with struck fear into his core.

"Are we clear?"

"Y-…y-yes, Master Hawkeye!" he stuttered, returning to his desk and applying himself to his notes once again. Soon, he was left alone. When he dared to look up again, he could see Master Hawkeye drag the small, blond-haired child into the front room, out of sight of Roy's bedroom.

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"I believe I told you not to go near that boy! You're too much of a distraction!" Master Hawkeye shouted with contempt.

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Roy could faintly hear the shouting from the other room. A small, feminine voice cut the air so softly that Roy could only hear the sound, but could not decipher the words.

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"Father, his lamp was running out of oil, and he soon would have been unable to study," she began, "I was only trying to assist him."

"I asked you not to disobey me!" he spoke harshly, advancing toward her in anger. She stepped back, nearly against the wall behind her. "I will not tolerate disobedience in my household!"

"Father, I would like to meet him! He looks sad and alone, and I've never had a friend! Not since Mom-"

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The already small voice was silenced by a hard slap and the sound of a body hitting the wall. Roy slumped into his seat, shaking. Master Hawkeye, the brilliant alchemist, was physically abusing whoever was in that room. Part of him wanted to rise up and defend that person, and yet he knew that if he wanted to change the world, he would need the help of that brilliant alchemist in the other room, and could not risk upsetting him. With a pen clenched in his hand, he tried to bury himself in his studies and hold back the rage he felt against the abuser.

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On her knees, holding her face in her hands, the girl held back tears, bowing reverently, as though her posture was begging for him not to strike her again. Yet, her eyes burned with an intense passion that was unwilling to back down and unwilling to hold back. Within that gaze was the soul of a girl that would not take "no" for an answer. But, she hid those eyes and protected herself, unwilling to risk her own health at this moment in time.

"Not. Another. Word," he spoke coldly, his eyes blank and unfeeling, "Finish cleaning and go to your room. I am going to sleep."

"Goodnight, Father," she whispered, looking up at him as he turned his back on her and walked away. She rose to her feet and clenched her fists at her sides, swallowing her emotions and walking into the kitchen.

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As Master Hawkeye passed through the hallway, Roy's nerves filled the air with an overwhelming sensation of tension and fear. He focused even more intensely on the texts, studying compounds, chemical properties, symbols, and circles. Hours passed, and as desperately as Roy wanted to understand the texts, the more he realized they were incredibly advanced, and too complicated for him to comprehend. His eyes sunk and his posture slackened the longer he scanned the pages. The work was fatiguing, and he frequently found himself frustrated with his lack of comprehension.

"Excuse me…?" came a gentle, yet nervous voice. The small, blond-haired girl was standing in the doorway to the small room. Papers were strewn everywhere, and the bed was untouched. Roy's black hair was disheveled, from running his fingers through it and burying his head in his hands in moments of doubt. His coal-colored eyes were glossed over and weary. It was nearly 2 in the morning and he hadn't slept at all. His eyes continued to scan the page of various complicated symbols. His deadened look led her to believe that none of the information was being retained. He was ignorant of the girl trying to get his attention.

"Excuse me, Mister Mustang?" she spoke again, a little louder. He was still lost in the pages. The only person she had seen more dedicated to their studies was her father, and something inside her was telling her not to let this boy turn into that man. And he wouldn't. Not if she had something to do with it.

Narrowing her eyes, she left and entered the kitchen, returning with a tray of tea, sugar, lemon, honey, potato leek soup, bread, and an apple. Approaching his desk, she pushed away the books and papers, and placed the tray in front of him. He finally looked up at her, surprised.

"There is no sense in starving yourself, or depriving yourself of sleep, Mr. Mustang," she spoke bluntly and confidently, "You won't retain any information that way. Please, eat."

He gazed at her, left at a loss for words. He had been around the women at his mother's bar, but none of them struck him as beautiful as this young girl who stood before him. Her face was round and childish, her skin like porcelain, her lips were gentle and light pink. Almost every inch of her body, from her small stature to her soft, little hands gave the impression that she was still a child. All but those eyes. Within those strikingly rich, deep mahogany eyes was the soul of a woman. They held him in a state of memorization, causing him to feel as though he could study them for hours without tiring. That soul called to him, intrigued him, and pulled him in. He wanted to know this girl.

Realizing she was being observed, a light blush crossed her face. She moved to the door. "I will return for your dishes later. Please rest once you have had something to eat. Goodnight, Mr. Mustang," she spoke as though it had been rehearsed.

Roy felt an unknown terror strike him. She was leaving him too soon. Yet if Master Hawkeye were to find out, this girl could be hurt, and he could lose everything. As she turned, he rose from his seat, rushing to her and grabbing her by the wrist, firmly, but gently. Her heart stopped. His raced. She turned to him, and he raised his other hand to the redness of her face. He ran his thumb over a small scratch and she cringed. His face fell. He could have helped her.

"Did he hurt you…?" he asked, his voice timid, yet comforting.

Her gaze wavered, them bored into his, the flash of the room's light in them seeming to make her eyes nod in affirmation. She pulled away and stepped into the hall. Confused, he moved to follow her, but she drew a line in the doorway with her foot. He stepped back, recalling Master Hawkeye's words. He gazed at her in puzzlement, seeming to be more frustrated with his inability to read her eyes than when he was trying to comprehend alchemy. Suddenly, he realized one important thing he had forgotten to ask her.

"What is your name?" he finally managed to choke out, once he regained his composure. Her eyes softened and she smiled gently.

"Miss Hawkeye."


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: Once again, I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist or any of its characters. If I did, Roy and Riza would have gotten together by the end of the series. xP All rights go to Hiromu Arakawa, Viz, Funimation, and any other companies that own rights. Here is part 2 of Cracking the Code! Please read and review, so that the chapters to come will be even better than the last! Thank you so much~**

Roy awoke to the sound of running water around 8:00 in the morning. A few cracks of light shone through the boards over the window. Rolling out of the bed somewhat noisily, he made his way to the doorway. Without warning, the door swung open and Miss Hawkeye walked in, carrying a tray of breakfast tea, sugar, honey, lemon, pancakes, and a small bowl of fruit. She had a bright smile on her face as she set it down on the neatly organized desk. She had cleaned last night after he had fallen asleep and organized everything for him.

"Good morning, Mr. Mustang," she greeted him warmly, yet professionally, "Here is your breakfast. My father will be in the marketplace all morning, so I've left a few books for you to read before he returns. I suggest you begin as soon as you've finished eating. Tonight, you may wash up using the shower outdoors. I will return for your dishes later."

He stared at her, dumbfounded. His brain was still processing the fact that such a cute, young girl had brought him breakfast and books, and it left him unable to really speak. He sort of just stumbled to spit out nonsense words. He cursed himself for not being more awake and coherent when she had come in. Then he would have had something witty to say. When he finally pulled it together enough to thank her, she had already left the room. He sighed with frustration and sat down at his desk, quickly eating the breakfast she had prepared for him. Once he had finished, he picked up two books that had been stacked separately with a handwritten note in neat script attached.

_Mr. Mustang,_

_My father expects his pupils to understand the advanced texts immediately. I know that he's being unreasonable. If you can understand these two books on basic symbols and basic chemical compounds before my father returns this afternoon, you should be in good shape to understand the more advanced texts by tomorrow evening. That is the longest length of time he will give you to prove your worth. I will have to take these books from you before he returns home, so that I may return them to where he hid them. Good luck._

_ -Miss Hawkeye_

"Now she's helping me to prove my worth to her father? I suppose that I'm lucky; I doubt his other pupil had her assistance. That's probably why he was rejected…" Roy thought out loud, opening the first book and beginning to study.

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Miss Hawkeye quietly washed the dishes and left them to dry, humming, softly to herself, a gentle tune. She had such a particular feeling about this boy, and she couldn't quite place it. She knew his dedication to the material would take him far, but she feared that he would turn into a recluse if it remained unchecked. Just like her father. He already seemed so quiet.

Another part of her had this warm, rushing feeling, like her heart was working overtime and pumping an inordinate amount of blood through her system. She found herself blushing when he looked at her, and having to rehearse what she needed to say before approaching him, so that she wasn't stumbling over her words. She couldn't really explain how she felt; only that she wanted him to stay.

Since she had finished with her usual chores the night before, and the laundry would be started tomorrow, she snuck into the hall close quietly, so as not to disturb Roy, and pulled out a pair of work gloves. This was the first time in a few years that she had the motivation to clean up the yard. Once she exited the front door, she knelt down by the overgrown path and began to pull weeds from the yard.

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10:00 hadn't even passed and Roy had already moved on to the more advanced texts with a brand new mindset. Symbols, compounds, chemical make-ups, energy flows – it all made so much more sense now that he had been briefed in the basics, much more so than last night. If it hadn't been for Miss Hawkeye, he would probably be searching for a new mentor to learn alchemy from. He was incredibly grateful for her. He picked up the two books and left to go and find her.

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Miss Hawkeye rose up from the pathway as Roy joined her outside. The smile on his face told her that he finally understood the texts a lot better. She removed her gloves and took the books from his hands, her eyes bright and energized. She held the books to her chest and looked at him directly.

"I take it that you don't need these anymore, Mr. Mustang?" she spoke with a hint of joy. "That was certainly fast!"

He bowed to her thankfully, relieved by the ease her vocal tone set him at, "I couldn't have done it without your help! Thank you!"

She moved toward the house, turning around just as a firm breeze passed through the yard. Her skirt waved in the wind and her amber eyes glowed in the sunlight. Roy could feel his ears turning red. She was so pure, so beautiful.

"I'll be right back! Just let me put these away."

With that, she disappeared into the dark building. It seemed so unfitting for her to be enclosed in such a dark, lonely space. He resolved that he would help her, as she had helped him, and pull her into the light. It was for people like her that he wanted to learn alchemy and become a State Alchemist – to improve the quality of life for all citizens. Why did he have to wait for a state certification to start? He would start with her.

When she returned outside, she picked up her work gloves and approached him, "Is there something else you need?" she questioned.

"In fact, there is! Where can I find a pair of gloves as lovely as yours?" he laughed, gesturing to the worn, dirt-covered pieces of cloth she was holding. But, when he looked up into her eyes, he found himself confused again. Their glowing amber orbs shimmered in the light, yet wavered almost imperceptibly. Her pupils seemed to have a dead lock on his mind, his heart, his soul, searching him for a hint of…something…he didn't know what. Yet, the vibrancy of the color seemed to soften and mask her ability to read his intentions. It left him nervous, and unsure of himself. She was so difficult to understand.

"You really don't need to repay me, Mr. Mustang," she suddenly smiled. Roy's heart jumped. Did her eyes see everything? "I was happy to help."

"You've given me some extra time. What sort of gentleman would I be if I sat around in the house while the lady worked in the yard?" he argued smoothly. She laughed gently, taking his hand and beginning to walk toward the house.

"Not much of one, I suppose," Miss Hawkeye agreed, feeling the heat rise in her cheeks. Roy followed her into the house, unsure of why he was suddenly unable to breathe properly. They continued down the dim hallway and reached the hall closet. "I'll need your help – the last pair of gloves are somewhere on the top shelf, and I'm too short to reach."

Roy looked up at the shelf; he was too small to reach as well. Miss Hawkeye looked at him with expectation. "I can lift you on my shoulders? Would that be okay?" he suggested. She smiled and stepped toward him. In a few moments, she had the gloves in hand.

"I have them!" she exclaimed, looking down at him, "You can put me down!"

"Not quite yet, m'lady!" he teased, carrying her through the house and into the yard on his shoulders before lowering her into his arms and spinning around. He felt as though he didn't want to let her go, and held her for a few seconds longer than he should have. Her cheeks were bright pink when he finally set her on her feet again.

Miss Hawkeye quickly straightened up and cleared her throat, tossing his gloves to him. "Well, let's get to work!" she smiled, pulling on her own gloves. Roy turned to her, modeling his hands playfully.

"Hey, gloves look pretty good on me!" he laughed, partially serious.

"You do look pretty good…!" she replied bashfully, quickly turning away and blushing once she realized what she had said. Roy walked around to face her, smiling brightly, though his ears were quite red. He tilted her chin up to look at him.

"You look pretty cute yourself!" he smiled, to put her at ease.

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Gently warmed droplets of water rained down over Roy's body. The sun was setting and he felt as though he had a new lease on life. Master Hawkeye was thrilled with his presentation on his understanding of the basics, and more advanced aspects on alchemy covered in the texts. He finally felt relaxed, being accepted both by Master Hawkeye, as his apprentice, officially, and by his daughter, Miss Hawkeye. Roy had never felt more relieved in his life. Breathing in the fresh, outdoor air as the water soothed his aching muscles, his thoughts drifted to Master Hawkeye's daughter.

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Miss Hawkeye slumped to the ground, wiping away a small amount of blood from the corner of her mouth. "You were never this unreasonable before Mom died! Why did you become so heartless?" she spat, no longer holding back the fire in her eyes.

He struck her again, his rage building, "I asked you not to distract him! He is _my_ apprentice! How dare you disobey me! How dare you disrespect me like that!"

She stepped forward. "People are NOT possessions! You can't keep them to yourself! Why do you think Mom got so ill? You wouldn't let her leave this filthy house! The only reason you haven't died yet is because I keep it livable! I'm not her! I won't stand for this, and I won't let you hurt Roy!" she exclaimed, realizing a few moments too late that she had called him by his first name.

"Roy?" Master Hawkeye growled, raising his hand threateningly, "You are on a first-name-basis with him?"

"No, Father!" she cringed, regretting her word choice, "I have always addressed him as 'Mr. Mustang'!"

"And he to you?"

"I have never told him my first name, Father."

He lowered his hang, his eyes cold and unloving. "Prepare my tea and bring it to my room, and then go to bed. I do not want to hear another word from you tonight."

She relented and walked into the kitchen to prepare the teapot. Her warm, amber eyes were tainted by tears that would not fall.

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Roy suddenly heard the whistle of the tea kettle and turned off the shower. Miss Hawkeye must be preparing bedtime tea, which meant he would soon have time to talk to her alone. With his heart racing with excitement, he dried off and made his way into the house.

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After she had brought her father's tea to him, Miss Hawkeye began to put together her own blend to help herself calm down. Chamomille, tilia estella, valerian, and hints of spearmint, lemongrass, hawthorn, and orange blossom. She heard the door open and quickly grabbed a light jacket and ran past Roy and out into the setting sun, taking the worn dirt path along the side of the house, which had just been cleared of weeds.

Roy entered the house, finding a few droplets of blood on the floor near the doorway. Her looked into the kitchen, and, finding Miss Hawkeye's tea, breathed in the aroma. After thinking for a moment, he entered his bedroom, closing the door behind him.

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Miss Hawkeye finally collapsed to the ground beneath a large tree about a mile and a half from her home. Her chest was heaving – she ran the entire way there, and her throat was dry. A few paces away was a small pond, and she liked to skip rocks across it when she was upset.

Once she had caught her breath, she rose to her feet and began to search for a stone, tears dripping down her face. Finding a smooth stone, she tossed it across the water, watching it skip 1, 2, 3, 4 times. She picked up another, and as she raised her hand to throw it, a hand wrapped around her wrist with a firm grip. Turning around, she dropped the stone from her hand with a gasp.


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